


our love is like playing with fire

by princealliance (anaksemuabangsa)



Series: playing with fire [1]
Category: EXO (Band), NCT (Band), SuperM (Korea Band)
Genre: Bottom Mark Lee (NCT), Drabble, M/M, Poetry, Prose Poem, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Top Kim Jongin | Kai
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-22
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:34:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25440967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anaksemuabangsa/pseuds/princealliance
Summary: There's religion to be found here.
Relationships: Kim Jongin | Kai/Mark Lee (NCT)
Series: playing with fire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851232
Comments: 19
Kudos: 75





	our love is like playing with fire

**Author's Note:**

> whew this is more prose-heavy than anything i usually post. also shorter than anything i usually post. unbeta'd. transferred from a tweetfic.

+++

Jongin glides his palms over a smooth back, drags his eyes down with his hands. Down the vertebrae. Counts the knobs and ridges of the bones. There are moles on the surface, dotting and breaking the continuum of fair skin. It's like stars, he thinks. Like the universe.

There's beauty to be found here, in this universe-laden skin. So much beauty. Touchable and palpable. Drops of miracles solidified into flesh. A beauty that begs to be witnessed and praised. Draws attention and stares and Jongin's breathless, awed gasps.

There's beauty and belonging here, in the dip of Mark's waist. The way the curl of Jongin's fingers fit perfectly there. There's a contrast there, too. Jongin thinks. Staring at his hands against Mark's skin. An intricate verse about dark and light, about delicacy and unravelling.

There's a metaphor lost in the way Mark shivers when Jongin's touch ghosts over his shoulders, slides down his bare arms. There's a metaphor and poetry in the way Mark's breath hitches quietly. In Mark's barely-there push towards Jongin's touch. But it's lost to the fire of Jongin's want and greed. Clouded when desperation makes itself known. Tries to climb the gates of his carefully guarded emotions.

They want him to give in. Wants him to repent and submit.

So Jongin does. Feeds wood to the fire, bends down until his chest presses against the wide expanse of Mark's back. A hand never leaving its grip on Mark's waist. Possessive of the beauty. Of the universe.

Jongin gives the sky a kiss, right between the shoulder-blades, and thrusts. The movement jostles Mark forward, a moan falling free from his lips. A prayer. Not one that Mark believes in. One that Jongin invented when he's buried deep inside Mark.

One that consumes. Demands reference. Like dancing with lightning on his feet.

"Hyung, _fuck_." Mark gasps. Keens.

And oh, and _oh_ , the worshipper in Jongin preens. Fire burning down his gut, molten and roiling in his loins. Makes him move faster, sharper. Makes him fuck into Mark with vigour, with insistence. With the steadiness of a hymn, the climbing echoes of organ-keys.

Mark gives his moans freely. And it's a ritual, Jongin thinks. A ceremony of sorts, a chanting, a fiery sermon. It's heady, and humbling, and it makes Jongin sob.

"Mark."

"Yes," Mark answers, breathy. Just as lost, just as consumed, just as burnt. Jongin's not alone in this. " _Yes_." 

Jongin fucks him, cock hitting deep within Mark. Drawing in and out. Rapid with his pace. Sure with his movements.

Jongin reaches around to grip Mark's cock in his hand, and his deity falls to the soft, hallowed ground beneath them. Face shoved into a pillow. Moans turning to cries. It's heady, it's humbling, it makes Jongin groan.

"I'm--I'm close, please, hyung, _please."_

Jongin grunts, times his thrusts to match the speed of his hand. The _schlick, schlick, schlick_ of it obscene and loud in the quiet room.

"Jongin," Mark whispers. A summoning. A reckoning. " _Hyung_!" He cries.

The song crescendos, the fire flares, a star explodes. God falls apart under Jongin's hands.

Mark cums with a low moan, sobbing weakly into the sheets. His spunk hot, coating Jongin's fingers. Jongin milks him through it, accepts whatever Mark is willing to give. His orgasms, his pleasure, his cries.

Mark doesn't ask him to stop. Even as he whimpers. Even as he writhes. Jongin's deity is generous in his blessings. Clenching hot and tight and _good_ around him and Jongin gives. Gives in, gives _up_ and lets himself taste the grace, lets himself _take_. He cums, head hung low, chest vibrating with a moan, shooting deep inside Mark.

His rhythm falters, the dancer falls to his knees before god, and the curtain falls.

-

There's tranquillity to be found, here. In the way Mark's eyelashes flutter against his cheek. Stability in the steady rise and fall of Mark's chest. He's always tired after sex. Always sated and sleepy. Always seeking warmth and heat.

Jongin offers them readily. His bed, his arms. Whatever Mark needs. Whatever Mark wants. This is what devotion feels like, he thinks. How addiction is found. This is how people start wars and never end them. This is how religions go, and why people confess their sins.

Yes, Jongin thinks. Watching Mark wake up slowly, eyes glazed and a smile pulling at his lips. This is how worship should be.

Mark shuffles forward, pillows his head on Jongin's arm, and he's beautiful, beautiful like this. All the world's prose and sonnet and ballads, poured into warm eyes and easy smiles.

"What are you looking at?" Mark asks, amused. Cheerful. Bright like sunlight. Warm like one.

"Nothing," Jongin says. Everything. He doesn't say.

Mark hums, leans in until he's a breath away from Jongin.

He pauses, stares. Like he's trying to figure Jongin out. Mark doesn't need to. Jongin will lay himself bare before him. Has. Will offer himself up for judgment if Mark asks him to. There is nothing Jongin wants to hide. Only things he doesn't tell.

"Okay," Mark whispers, acquiesces, and presses soft lips against Jongin's.

Yes, he thinks, opening up the seam of Mark's mouth with his tongue, slings his arms around Mark, pulling him close. This is how religions go, he thinks.

Mark makes a soft noise from the back of his throat, coaxes Jongin on top of him again. Hands wandering, asking for more, asking for Jongin.

Jongin sighs contently into the kiss, love burning under his skin. He lets his mouth hover over the skin of Mark's jugular, murmurs words of reverence. Pledges himself, devotes. Ties himself into and with Mark.

Mark responds with a whine, a whispered _yes_. Jongin's never alone in this.

Jongin presses one last kiss on Mark's neck, feels him shiver under his lips, and stumbles readily into enlightenment.

+++

**Author's Note:**

> did ya like it? please tell me what you think with a comment~ 
> 
> find me!  
> [cc](https://curiouscat.me/carrotbakehyun) | [twt](https://twitter.com/diorboybaek)


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